An Toiseach Pòg
by seilleanmor
Summary: Based on a request I received on tumblr: Castle and Beckett are strangers and participate in the strangers kiss for the first time video. One shot.
1. Chapter 1

Based on a request I received on tumblr: Castle and Beckett are strangers and participate in the strangers kiss for the first time video. Title is in Scottish Gaelic because I didn't want it to be immediately obvious.

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**An Toiseach Pòg**

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It has been one hell of a morning. Dispatch woke her at three and Kate hasn't stopped since, so when Lanie appears in the precinct and demands that Beckett join her for lunch she hesitates for barely a moment. The weather is unseasonably warm; even with the crisp edge of spring Kate shucks her jacket and folds it over one arm.

Stomach growling, she trails Lanie down the sidewalk and towards their favourite place to eat of the moment. Kate hesitates to bend down and untuck the hem of her pants, somehow caught in her shoe, and when she straightens up she watches as Lanie gets corralled a little way ahead of her by a woman with a clipboard.

Hurrying to catch up, Kate unclips her badge from her belt. She's hungry enough that she's willing to swing her weight as a cop to rescue her friend. Only as she gets nearer, it seems that Lanie really doesn't need to be rescued.

"Hey. What's happening?"

"They're looking for people to take part in a video, Beckett. Some arty thing." Dr Parish shrugs, nudging an elbow into her friend. Okay, so Lanie knows all about what Kate was like as a teenager, how painfully pretentious as she ditched her prom for a poetry slam and modelled nude for art classes.

The woman with the clipboard seems eager, raking her eyes over Kate before she consults her clipboard. "It will only be an hour at the most. And we'll pay you."

"What do we have to do?" Lanie asks, already eager. Stifling an eye roll, Beckett shifts her weight and does her best to surreptitiously clip her badge back onto her waistband. Her best friend always manages to get them involved in things like this.

"We're going to pair you with a stranger, and we'll ask you to kiss them." The woman is explaining, Lanie's eyes lighting up at the prospect.

Beckett takes a stumbling step backward and shakes her head, folding her arms across her stomach in self-defence. Absolutely not. "Whoa, no. Lanie. No."

"Oh come _on_, girl. How long has it been since you've gotten any action?" Lanie huffs, jabbing her finger into Kate's shoulder and turning to the woman with the clipboard. "We'll do it."

Oh god. Oh no. She's really not in the mood to make out with some random stranger. She needs at least two glasses of wine in her system before she's up for that. "_Lanie_."

The woman with the clipboard is pointing out the building down the block where it's all happening and then Lanie's fingers are tightening around Kate's wrist and dragging her down the pavement, barely hesitating when she trips on an uneven flagstone. Pushing the door open, Lanie ushers Kate inside ahead of her and towards the stairs, the two of them heading to the studio area.

Another woman, sans clipboard, greets them warmly and takes their coats, offers them a drink. Lanie accepts; Kate declines. She doesn't want this to last longer than absolutely necessary. They're shown to a green room with a couch and Kate sinks down gratefully, scowling at Lanie before she drops her head to her hands.

This is insane. She's a detective, for god's sake. She can't just disappear in the middle of the day to go make out with a stranger. Not that they have any leads, exactly. They're waiting on a warrant and the boys can handle it, she knows.

Even so. She's lead detective. She's supposed to set an example. "I can't believe you're doing this to me."

"Oh honey, come on." Lanie says, sitting down beside her and nudging her until Kate sits up. "It'll be fun. Just relax. Enjoy it."

A guy in thick-framed glasses with an unruly mop of dark hair and disconcertingly tight jeans appears in the doorway and looks at Kate, beckoning with two fingers. "Can I have you first please? This way."

She follows, tries to project an air of confidence she really doesn't feel. At the doorway to the studio they stop and the guy – she really wishes she knew his name – fixes a blindfold over her eyes. He does ask for permission first, which she appreciates, but she's kind of freaking out about not being able to see anything. He cups a hand at her elbow, guides her into the room.

The heat of stage lighting smacks into her and Kate rakes a hand through her hair, hears the bustle of people she assumes are the director and the camera crew. And then footsteps, gradually louder, and the sense of someone's body close to hers.

"Alright guys, take your blindfolds off for me." Someone says and Kate tears hers off as fast as possible, entirely hating not having been able to see what's going on.

The moment she sees who the stranger she's been paired with is she takes a stumbling step backward, chewing at her bottom lip as she waits. He's slower to take his own blindfold off, enjoying the reveal, and she's grateful for the time it affords her.

This man isn't a stranger. She's seen his face on inside of countless book jackets, on television and page six. Seen him face to face too, years ago now. When she stood in line for hours just to meet him and ask him to sign her book.

"Hi." He extends a hand to her and she takes it, not at all surprised to find that his handshake is solid and sure of himself. "I'm Rick."

Oh, she knows. Richard freaking Castle, and now she's got to make out with him. And then afterwards, she's going to take great pleasure in murdering Lanie, slowly and methodically.

"Kate."

"So. . ." Castle (and she can't think of him as Rick) sucks in air through his teeth, his mouth lifting in a crooked grin. "We're gonna make out?"

"I guess that's how it works." She shrugs, forces herself to meet his eyes. This is insane. Her heart thrashes frantically and a knot of trepidation tightens in her gut. It really has been a while, Lanie's not wrong, and this is just all so bizarre.

Castle glances over to the director and lifts an eyebrow. Kate is pleased to see that he seems if not nervous at least a little less sure of himself than before. "Do we just go for it?"

"Whenever you're ready." The woman nods. Her hair is knotted atop her head and her outfit is an interesting blend of vintage and modern that Kate really likes, has to force herself to stop admiring.

Taking a step closer, Castle cups the back of her neck. It's tender, soft, his thumb next to her ear as if to hold her in place. And then he's leaning in and her heart is kicking so hard she's afraid he can hear it.

"This okay?" He murmurs to her, quiet enough she doubts even the boom microphone above them will have picked it up.

She nods, and then he closes his eyes and leans in. His mouth meets hers and Kate lifts up into him, resting her palms against his chest. Castle's tongue slicks against her bottom lip and she opens to him, gritting out something that might be a moan and sliding her hand up to curl her fingers at his ear.

Their kiss is deep and searching, tongue and then teeth and the wonderful again and again press of his lips. He pulls away for a moment and presses his forehead to hers, grins down at her and she smiles back, finds herself reluctant to pull away.

Apparently so is he; he comes back for a closed-mouth kiss and his free hand drops to her waist, his arm banding around her back to draw her body in close to his. This time, Kate lets herself give back to him. Her tongue strokes inside of his mouth and he moans, his fingers scalding even through the material of her button down as he clutches at her.

When they break away he pants against her cheek, refusing to give up any of the space between them. "Wow. That was amazing."

"Yeah." She laughs, detangles herself from his grip and turns to the director. "Is that it?"

"That's great, thank you so much." The woman enthuses, coming towards them and shaking each of their hands in turn. "Leave your email addresses with Clark and we'll let you know when the video's uploaded."

Another man hovers at the director's side with a clipboard, gesturing to them both to follow him back to a different green room. They – she and _Richard Castle_ – take it in turns to note down their contact details and then Clark leaves them alone.

They look at each other for a moment and then laugh, Kate pressing her palms to her cheeks to hide the flush she can feel rising there.

"So. Tell me a little more about yourself." Castle says, settling down on the couch and patting the seat next to him.

Kate sinks down to sit and grabs a bottle of water from the table next to her, hands it over to Castle before she grabs one for herself. She takes a long drink, a little disappointed that it washes away the taste of him, and swipes the back of her hand across her mouth. "Uh. Well, my full name is Katherine Beckett. I'm a homicide detective with the NYPD."

His eyes light up at that and she grins, dips her chin to let her hair spill in front of her face. It seems sort of ridiculous to be regaling him with these most basic facts about herself when she's just had his tongue in her mouth.

"I have to confess." She carries on, folding her hands carefully in her lap so they won't give away her anxiety. "I know who you are."

"You do?" He seems pleased with that, but not overly so. Not the arrogant playboy she was expecting. Perhaps because he's at a disadvantage; she knows more about him than he does her and it seems to be throwing off his game quite spectacularly.

Shrugging, Kate picks at a loose thread at the knee of her pants and grins. "Yeah. I've seen your books in the library." He doesn't need to know that she's read them, that she's a fan. That his words carried her through the sucking quagmire of grief. No. She'll keep that to herself.

"Oh." He hesitates, watching her carefully. "Listen, Kate. That kiss was incredible. And you seem really great. So, maybe you'd like to get dinner sometime?"

She lifts an eyebrow at that, pressing her lips together. "I'm not your usual type, am I?"

"You're fascinating." He responds. His smile is tentative, really quite adorable. "I feel like we should get to know each other. Since we clearly have crazy chemistry going on."

"Okay." She manages, chewing on her lip again.

"Great! Well, here, let's trade numbers." He holds out his phone, takes hers from her and busies himself adding his contact details.

She does the same and hands back his iPhone, stands up from the couch and hovers awkwardly until he follows suit. He walks her over to the door and opens it for her, gestures for her to step through. "Oh, no, I have to wait for my friend."

"I see." He nods. There's a moment where she thinks he might just walk away, but he leans back in to kiss her again. Soft and fleeting and lovely, and it wipes away any doubts she has about him just disappearing into the living mass of the city.

The way he's kissing her now, the look in his eyes. . .he's definitely going to call.

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**Tumblr: **katiehoughton

**Twitter:** seilleanmor


	2. Chapter 2

**An Toiseach ****Pòg**

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They've just broken the case when her phone rings. Beckett stares at it hopelessly, frozen in front of the murder board, and glances over to the boys. Chewing at her bottom lip, she swipes her thumb across the screen to accept the call and strides for the break room, ignoring the boys' cries of protest at her back.

"Beckett."

"Ooh, you always answer your phone like that?" He says, and the pure admiration in his voice makes her laugh.

Sinking onto the couch, Kate folds her legs at the knee and cradles her phone close, letting her eyes slip closed as she pictures his face. "I'm in work mode. Sorry."

"Don't be." He laughs, his words rich and refracting around his grin. "Seriously sexy. So, Detective Beckett, you got a case right now?"

"Yes, actually. But I think we just cracked it. So hopefully it'll be done by tonight." She finds herself smiling just at the sound of him breathing on the other end of the line, has to shake herself out of it. That is just ridiculous.

She met the man _this morning_. And yes, he's a really great kisser, and the sharp crack of chemistry between them is undeniable, but even so. There's no need to swoon.

"That's good. Would you like to get dinner?"

It's been such a long time since she's done this. Dated anyone. She feels completely off her game, wrecked by him, but at the same time adrenaline starbursts through her system. It's so nice to be wanted, by someone who – and this she's unafraid to admit – she wants back.

"Dinner sounds great."

"Fantastic. Well, I'll let you go solve a murder, detective. I can text you the details of our date." His voice is pitched low, making her thighs tense with need and she swallows back the clog of lust.

She doesn't want to put out on the first date. That's not her style. She likes to keep some element of mystery intact, wants him to work for it. Only the way he looks at her, the way he kisses her. . .she's not entirely sure she can hold out.

It'll require everything she has. "Okay. But Castle, I might not be able to make it. It depends on the case."

"That's fine. Just let me know." His voice is soft and unassuming, and she wonders why he doesn't show this side of himself to the public. Why he allows himself to be splashed across page six. "I'll let you go solve a murder. See you tonight."

"See you." She smiles, holding the phone to her ear even after he disconnects the call. The dial tone is loud, jarring, but it does nothing to stop the silly grin that spreads across her face. And then Esposito taps on the door and she stands swiftly, shoving her cell phone into her jacket pocket and striding back into the bullpen.

They'll close the case today.

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Her call comes later than he was hoping and she sounds breathless, the rush of the city in the background distracting him for just a moment before he remembers to speak. "Hey."

"Hey Castle." She says, and it has him wriggling in pleasure in his office chair, the laptop's screensaver scrolling past over and over again. _You should be writing_ and yes, thank you, he knows that. He's just been. . .a little distracted, this afternoon.

Leaning back, he rests a hand at the back of his neck and turns his chair to face the window. Outside, the scattered lights of the city entice him; he'd really like to be out there soaking in the hum of life. "I really like when you call me that. Castle."

"Oh. It's a cop thing." She sounds like she's blushing and more than anything he wishes he could see the rise of a delicate flush in her cheeks. "We closed the case. I know it's late-"

"Come over." He finds himself blurting out, a little startled by his own fervency. She sounds tired and he guesses that she doesn't want to go out for dinner, but that doesn't mean they can't still see each other. "I haven't eaten. We can get takeout."

"That sounds nice. Text me your address?" She murmurs, and he grins. His mother and daughter are both out this evening, so they can ensconce themselves on the couch. They can talk, and laugh, and maybe make out a little.

Or a lot. He's hopeful.

"I will do. Bye, Kate." He says to her, waits for her to return the sentiment before he hangs up. And then he's up and striding for the closet, picking out a dress shirt in crisp maroon and dark slacks. In the living room, he plumps the pillows on the couch and sets out a bottle of wine and two glasses on the coffee table.

And then he paces, palms clammy as he waits on her. It's juvenile and a little ridiculous, but he is utterly enthralled by this woman and he cannot wait to see her again. She's so fascinating to him. Inspiring, even, and since he killed Derrick Storm he's been really lacking in that department.

As well as that, the way she makes him want to write, there hasn't been anyone since his divorce from Gina, his ego more than a little bruised. It's part of the reason he agreed so readily to the project this morning, eager at the prospect of maybe meeting someone.

Not that he could have anticipated just how amazing that someone would be. She has him hooked already. A knock on the door startles him and he jerks, half-runs to answer it.

Oh God. She's so insanely beautiful.

Tentative and a little shy, she shrugs her shoulders inside of her blazer and smoothes her palms down her thighs, his mouth going dry at the entirely too flattering cut of her slacks. "I'm sorry. I came straight from the precinct. I should have gone home to change."

"Don't be ridiculous. You look great." He says, ushering her inside the loft and closing the door behind them. Once he's finished with the lock - Alexis keeps drilling into him the importance of security with all those crazy fans out there - he turns back to find Kate standing in the middle of the living room with her back to him. "Can I get you a drink?"

"That would be great." She turns a smile over her shoulder to him and he gapes, hurries over to her and sets his hand at her bicep.

Her jaw goes slack and she stares up at him, the choppy cut of her hair falling across her cheeks. "I would really, really like to kiss you again."

"Oh you would?" She teases, lifting an eyebrow at him. Just that, the edge of her humour coupled with the soft heat of her body so close to his, and he knows she's got him.

He _wants_ her. Badly. "Very much. But only if you wanted me to."

Chewing on her lip, she regards him carefully for a moment before taking a step backwards. Not far, it doesn't even sever the connection of his hand at her arm, but her message is clear. "Let's eat first. And then we should talk. I don't want to just fall into bed with you."

He laughs, and then she does too even as she's shaking her head at him, and it dispels some of the crackling tension. "You're right. I haven't ordered; I wasn't sure what you would want."

"My favourite is Thai." She shrugs at him, slipping off her jacket and draping it over the back of the couch. And then she steps out of her heels and he realises that she's actually a good bit shorter than him.

Still tall and statuesque and gorgeous, of course, but she also looks like she would fit comfortably into his embrace like this. Fold herself close against him. "Mine too. How about it?"

"Is it really, or are you just saying that?" She challenges. Even looking up at him, she's commanding and powerful and it has his guts turning to water. How much he respects her already takes him by surprise, but makes perfect sense.

"I like most things. I'm easy." And then he leers at her and she rolls her eyes, moves away from him to settle on the couch and he follows.

Already. He follows.

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Dinner was easier than she imagined. She had sort of assumed she'd spend the whole time staving off his advances, but he was sweet and attentive and perfectly happy to just talk with her.

And that surprised her too. How easy it is to hold a conversation with him. He asked her about work, but seemed to sense when she didn't want to discuss it anymore and let her question him instead. It makes her guts clench, something so strange about sitting here with her favourite author and being able to ask him anything at all she wants.

They fade into silence gradually, naturally, the both of them studying one another but content not to say anything. And then his fingers come to tuck her hair back behind her ear and he smiles at her, shifts a little closer. "Kate? I really like you. I'd like to see you again."

"Castle. . ." She starts, sucking in a breath between her teeth. It doesn't seem right, to lead him on. Let him think she's anywhere close to being able to do this with him. "I'm not. . .the easiest person to be with. I have baggage."

"That's okay. So do I. Two divorces, Kate." He shrugs, but she sees the scared little boy underneath. The fear that he'll never get it right. Oh, how well she knows it.

Castle takes her hand in his, lacing their fingers together tight enough that it would take considerable effort for her to free herself. So she doesn't. "I, uh- my life is mostly work."

"I don't mind. I'm a writer; I can be flexible. And you're worth it."

She feels heat rush in at her cheeks, totally powerless to stop it, and gnaws on her bottom lip. "You can't possibly think that already."

"I do. I want to know you." He says, and then he's leaning in until she can feel his breath against her own mouth, her whole body crying out in exaltation. "You have to tell me to stop."

She shivers, brings a hand up to fist in his collar and draw him in, close the distance between them. "Don't stop." She whispers, and then his mouth is on hers and all of her anxiety melts away.

There are so many things that, when he finds them out, have the potential to send him scrambling away from her. But somehow, the way he kisses her means it just ceases to matter. Maybe when he finds out that her mother is dead, that her father is an alcoholic - yes in recovery but it never ends, Castle will not want anything to do with her.

Right now, though, he's kissing her soft and sweet and his palm is splayed wide at her back and she wants nothing more than for it not to stop.

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Hours later, on her side in his bed with her bare skin flush against his, Kate's cell phone rings. He groans, kissing the line of her neck before she manages to reach for it and answer. Thankfully, there's a pen on the nightstand, but no pad of paper like she has at home.

Kate scrawls the address of the crime scene onto the back of her hand instead and listens to the rest of the information dispatch gives her. Their victim is apparently the daughter of the multimillionaire industrialist Jonathan Tisdale, and so they need to get this one wrapped as soon as possible so, God forbid, the man doesn't sue or something.

"I have to go to work." She murmurs once her call disconnects, leaning in to kiss Castle's temple, his cheek. "I'm sorry."

"That's okay." He grins, kissing her mouth. She gives it right back to him for a moment, lets his tongue stroke inside and then she's peeling herself away from him, albeit with some reluctance. "Call me later?"

"I'll call you." She says softly, and then Kate climbs out of Rick Castle's bed and starts getting ready to head to the crime scene.

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**A/N: Okay, I really am done now.**


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